


Fallen for a Lie

by small_blue_owl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Heartbreak, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hell is Terrible (Good Omens), Holy Water (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Music, Last Kiss, Loss of Powers, M/M, Sad Ending, She/Her Pronouns for Michael (Good Omens), Suicide, The author is very sorry :(, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Title from a Billie Eilish Song, pair bonded aziraphale and crowley, references to alpha centauri, temporarily brainwashed Crowley, this is very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29751261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_blue_owl/pseuds/small_blue_owl
Summary: Aziraphale chooses Heaven over Crowley but he never thought that Crowley might not have chosen him.Was I stupid to love you?Was I reckless to help?Was it obvious to everybody else?That I'd fallen for a lieYou were never on my side...*WARNING: this is the original ending I had in mind and it is very sad. If you want a happy ending, read the other version of this under the same name.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this a while ago, (I have a version posted already) and I had a certain ending in mind. Then I thought to myself ‘well shit. this is way too sad.’ So I changed it and that’s the version I posted.   
> Fast forward three weeks. I was encouraged to write that original ending I had in mind, so here it is. And it is very sad. This absolutely broke my heart to write. If you want a happy ending to this fic, read the other version under the same name.   
> tw: suicide

“Was I stupid to love you?

Was I reckless to help?

Was it obvious to everybody else

That I’d fallen for a lie?

You were never on my side…”

\--billie eilish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Complete darkness.

Unknown, velvet, all-consuming darkness for as far as he could see. The kind of dark that isn’t destroyed by light but rather the other way around. Even the brilliant light of Heaven itself was lost in this silent vastness of black.

Aziraphale felt a wave of dizziness and nausea as he looked down. He had expected flames or sulfur or _something,_ but nothing was infinitely worse.

He looked away.

His eyes rested on the archangels across from him; the host of beings that should have been like family to him. A twinge of anguish shot through him as he realized that now they never would be. He had always hoped that someday he would be good enough and they would accept him.

Now he would never get the chance.

“Aziraphale,” Michael’s voice was clear and sharp. “You know why you are here. You have betrayed Heaven and therefore you are no longer fit to be an angel.”

Aziraphale tried in vain to choke back a sob. Hearing those words cut dangerously close to his heart. For the first time since he had been summoned here, the whole situation felt real. Now the words had been spoken. He was past the point of no return, yet he didn’t know it until he was told that it was behind him.

Michael had stepped forward, her eyes unassailably determined. Aziraphale knew he couldn’t convince her or any of them that what he had done was not a sin. It would involve questioning everything and dismantling the bedrock upon which the values of Heaven were built. No good, faithful angel would ever dare. Aziraphale’s eyes stung with tears as he appealed to the mercy that he knew he wouldn’t find.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, his voice sounding like the wind in the trees, “Forgive me, forgive me…” He trailed off and the tears clouded his voice again.

Gabriel sighed and folded his hands. “It is too late for forgiveness, Aziraphale. What you have done is unforgivable.”

The words burned in the angel’s ears.

“Unless” reminded Michael, her voice cold as ice, “unless you treat the Adversary as such. Do you wish to change your mind?”

The tone of her voice made it clear that she asked the question out of formality, not because she wanted to know the answer.

She already knew.

Aziraphale hung his head, keenly aware of Michael’s unwavering gaze, eyebrows raised, waiting for the words she knew Aziraphale wouldn’t say.

His gaze dropped to his hands and the little ring on his finger shimmered in the light. The band of metal that symbolized the unbreakable bond that joined him to his beloved demon. Love was worth Falling for but that didn’t make Falling any less terrifying to face.

The angel drew a stuttered breath, knowing this was the last time. He had to choose.

And he knew his answer.

Very slowly, he raised his eyes to the archangels, his tears reflecting the last brilliant rays of Heaven that would ever touch him.

“No,” he breathed, more calmly than he had expected, “I do not wish to change my mind.” His voice wavered with the gravity of what he was saying. “I have already made my choice.”

A low growl shifted through the floor, like thunder but more sustained. Almost completely in unison, the archangels turned their backs to him. Aziraphale suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Tiny flashes of darkness crisscrossed the floor, growing into large cracks which split the glass beneath him.

And then the darkness was rushing up to meet him and the thunder roared in his ears and he watched, anguished and spiteful and terrified and helpless as the light of his former home grew smaller and smaller until it was just a tiny pin prick of light in the endless sea of darkness.

And then his wings were on fire and the light of Heaven went out.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	2. Chapter 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing he sensed was that something was missing.

It wasn’t the absence of light or even his featherless wings. It was something deeper. Something in his soul. As though a hot knife had cut away all the Heavenly warmth and left a hole in his very essence.

Nothing would ever fill it again, at least not completely. Love lessened the burden of this emptiness and so he tried desperately to cling to thoughts of Crowley for dear life, trying not to be pulled into the sinking, spinning horror that occupied his heart.

He had no idea where he was or how much time had passed or even if time existed where he was. He was vaguely aware of being cold and there being a musty smell in the air.

Glancing down, he caught sight of the ring, tarnished with ash but still feebly shining. He curled in on himself, covering his face with his hands and sobbed. He cried for the mercilessness of Heaven, he cried for the absence of Her love, he cried for Crowley who he understood so much better now. The pain of Falling was so much worse than he could have possibly imagined. No wonder Crowley needed to be told he was loved. He had no idea how Crowley lived with this hollowness in his heart. Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to run to Crowley’s arms and stay there until each healed the horrible emptiness of the other. Only love could heal this wound.

“You’re here.”

Aziraphale raised his head at the voice that was low and threatening in a way that he couldn’t quite place.

“We’ve been exzzzpecting you.” Beelzebub wore one of their rare smiles, a tight-lipped mockery that did not touch their eyes.

“Crowley,” they called sharply behind them. “There’zzzz someone here for you.”

Aziraphale heard a footstep in the darkness and then there he was.

A wave of love washed through Aziraphale’s heart as rose to his knees. “Crowley,” he whispered reverently.

But his breath stuck in his throat as Crowley met his eyes.

There was an emptiness and a coldness there that Aziraphale had never seen before. His eyes were vacant, expressionless, lifeless. There was not a shred of the loving warmth that he was so used to seeing.

Something was very wrong.

Aziraphale couldn’t tell if it was a mask and the real Crowley--the one he knew and loved--was underneath, or if the Crowley he knew had been the mask and this was what the demon was in reality.

For a moment, Crowley looked at him without recognition. Then a cold smile spread across his face. He turned to Beelzebub.

“See?” His voice was hollow and flat. “I told you I could.” The demon gestured towards him. He wasn’t wearing the ring that matched Aziraphale’s. “Told you I could make him Fall.”

A look of confusion and terror claimed Aziraphale’s face. “What?” he managed, his voice still hoarse, “Crowley, dearest, what is—”

“I never thought it would work,” replied Beelzebub, both themself and Crowley ignoring Aziraphale completely.

A sick dread was settling over Aziraphale’s heart and he began to panic. “Wait,” he stammered, desperately, “Crowley…”

The demon turned an exasperated look at him.

“What?” he snapped.

Aziraphale’s heart sank as he tried to breathe under the cold, unfeeling gaze. “What’s wrong? Crowley, my love…” But that’s all he could manage before his voice gave out. The absent look in Crowley’s eyes was terrifying.

“I tempted you,” said the demon flatly.

Aziraphale suddenly couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be, it _couldn’t_ be… He had been terrified of this but never thought it would actually happen.

But the only thing worse than the words he had just heard from the love of his life was the apathy with which he said them. It wasn’t that Crowley hated him. It was worse than that.

Crowley didn’t care.

“You said you loved me,” he whispered through tears, “I chose you over all of Heaven but only because I thought you chose me,” he finished, his eyes on the ground.

Crowley made an exasperated noise and Aziraphale winced.

Aziraphale couldn’t bear to look him in the face, couldn’t live if he saw that emotionless expression again. “None of it…none of it was…was real?” he asked weakly.

Crowley shot him a demeaning look like the fallen angel should know better than to ask such a stupid question.

Aziraphale collapsed to the floor again, unable to stop the floods of tears that blurred the room. This was a pain worse than any he had ever felt. Worse than being scorned by Heaven, worse than Falling. The void in his heart was threatening to consume him entirely as his last chance at happiness was torn from him.

“Well done,” he heard Beelzebub remark, “You won’t have to work on Earth if you don’t want to. He’ll take your placzzzz. You’d be a Duke of Hell.” There was a moment of silence. Then Crowley spoke.

“Yeah, it’d be an honor,” he said, casually.

Aziraphale heard his footsteps, returning to wherever he had come from.

“Get up,” snapped Beelzebub, “You’ll be zzent to Earth azzzz one of uzzzz.” They clicked their fingers sharply and Aziraphale felt himself being thrown through time and space. He had no idea where he was being sent. He didn’t care. Then slowly, reality settled back in.

It was so dark he could hardly see. The air was thick with smoke and smells endemic to poverty and desperation. Dark figures shuffled through the shadows. It was a place of theft and crime and fear. A place that people pretended didn’t exist. A place in need that no one bothered to help. It was so filthy and dark that Aziraphale couldn’t quite tell if this was Hell or Earth. Glancing up to the sky, he could see a few stars shining through the thick layers of fog and pollution and dust. That was the only sign that this was indeed Earth and not purgatory.

Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to bless these desolate people, bring a few miracles to this place of sadness. Yet he no longer had the power to bestow the blessings that he once could. No matter how much he wished, whatever miracles he could perform would not _bless_ the people here.

His job was no longer to help these people. It was to hurt them.

He couldn’t bear to stay in this place, to keep being crushed under the feeling that he couldn’t help them. All he wanted was to go home. With a snap of his fingers, he miracled himself to the bookshop.

A whole new wave of sadness struck him the moment he was inside. The memories…

He sank to his knees, trying not to think about all the happy, happy times that had been spent here. All the wine and the conversations, the love and the kisses, the sighs and the laughter, the echoes of which still seemed to hover in the corners. Aziraphale tried desperately to hold on to these memories for they were all he had left.

But though the memories were precious to him, they were all tainted now. Crowley hadn’t meant any of it. None of the glances, none of the smiles, none of the kisses, none of the love. The grief struck him in a wave again and he tried to keep the pieces of his heart together as they were splintered and torn and drowned in oblivion. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	3. Chapter 3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Crowley’s Downstairs office was small and cluttered with old papers and capless pens and a layer of dust and grime that hung over everything. A single fluorescent bulb flickered on and off a few times before lighting the place in an eerie, bluish glow. He hadn’t spent much time here, so there wasn’t much to move.

He casually flipped through a stack of old papers, letting them fall to the floor. Old assignments and such from the past six thousand years. Now he would be giving assignments not receiving them. His job on Earth was finally over, and he had to admit that he was happy about it. He had accomplished his goal there, and now he wouldn’t have to answer to anyone except Beelzebub and Satan himself. A little smirk drifted over his face. As he slid another stack of papers across his desk, something brushed against his fingers.

It burned slightly and he drew his hand sharply away. He looked closer at the thing on the desk, and his forehead bunched in confusion.

A ring.

Cautiously, he picked it up. That strange wave of electricity coursed through his hand again and he winced.

It felt…familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place. It almost felt warm.

Then suddenly tendrils of memories twined around his heart like vines.

Aziraphale had been there. His angel had Fallen. He had seen him. And he had said…

Crowley began to tremble as he realized what had happened--Hell had stolen his ability to love.

Horrified, Crowley raced out of the office, the ring held so tightly in his hand that it dented his skin. He flung the door to the little room open, Aziraphale’s name on his lips.

Empty.

No answer.

Hot tears sprung to his eyes as his gaze darted frantically around the room. He was gone. Crowley swore under his breath. He had to find Aziraphale, had to take back the horrible things that he’d said. But where was he? He vaguely remembered something that Beelzebub said about him being sent to Earth in Crowley’s place. Shit. Then he’d have to get an excuse to leave. Miracling himself back to Earth would draw too much attention. He would have to come up with a lie and he didn’t have much time. He could still hear the horrible words he had said to Aziraphale echoing through his mind. He was terrified that the fallen angel would do something desperate. A searing pain swept through his chest. He would never forgive himself if…

No, he couldn’t think about that. Trying to keep himself calm, he walked back to his office, thinking. As an idea began to form in his mind, his steps quickened until he was almost running again. The door slid open and he carefully shut it behind him.

Taking out a piece of paper and a pen, he scribbled the letters and numbers that would mean something to Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone. He folded it carefully and closed his eyes, concentrating as he done a million times before, searching for the angelic warmth of Aziraphale’s aura.

Nothing.

He began to panic as he searched again. Had Beelzebub killed him? Had Aziraphale killed himself?

Oh.

Then the heartbreak struck him like a heavy stone, and he bit his lip.

Aziraphale didn’t have an angelic aura anymore.

He sobbed as he used his mind to sense the pair bond and miracled the letter to Aziraphale, wherever he was. He looked down at his empty hands and wept. He could only guess at the irreparable damage that he must have caused and hope that he would be able to heal it before it destroyed the love of his life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	4. Chapter 4

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Something fluttered in the corner of his eye.

Aziraphale didn’t pay it any mind. Nothing mattered anymore.

The absolute helplessness was debilitating. He still lay curled on the floor of the bookshop, wondering if there was any reason left to live. A sinking cold began to build in his heart as he seriously considered holy water.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. It would certainly be better than this torture of living without Crowley by his side. There was an emptiness in his heart that was slowly suffocating him, a void of nothingness that seemed almost inviting.

Nothing mattered. He had Fallen. Crowley didn’t love him. He didn’t belong anywhere anymore. No one cared if he lived or died. There was no way to avoid the horrible sadness that was crushing his entire being, no place to hide, no arms to hold him and comfort him.

Very slowly, he rose from the floor, a numbness settling over him like fog. He moved as though he had been programmed, his eyes dead from the floods of emotions that had left him hollow.

There was holy water in the bookshop. There always was. Aziraphale knew where it was; of course he did. He had put it there himself.

Slowly, he took off the lid and carefully poured it into the little white cup on his desk.

The water was clear like no other water on earth. Aziraphale had seen holy water hundreds of times, but for whatever reason, it seemed brighter now. It had an untouchable look to it, reminding him of the place that had closed its gates to him. The place he could never return to. The garden that he had been cast out of.

He sat for a long time, gazing at his own reflection. His eyes were a deep orange now and his face was drawn and pale. He scarcely recognized the face looking back at him, reflected in the means of his own destruction.

A small, folded piece of paper lay on the floor behind him. A few words in a familiar hand that would have saved his life had he seen them. But Aziraphale had no more room in his heart for hope.

A single tear found its way down his cheek. He vaguely wondered where he would go. Or if he would just disappear. He couldn’t help but wish that somehow, he could be reunited with the love of his life.

The tears fell faster. His hands shook as he slowly lifted the cup from the desk.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	5. Chapter 5

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The halls were dark as Crowley made his way to Beelzebub’s office. His heart was racing, and his eyes still stung with tears that told of emotions he knew he shouldn’t have, terror and love that he knew he had to hide. Carefully, he slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

At the door to their office, he took a deep breath, trying to feign the emotionless monster he had been minutes before.

The door clicked as he opened it.

Beelzebub sat behind a black varnished desk. They looked up at him as he walked in without raising their head.

“Yezzz?” they asked shortly.

Crowley took a silent breath. “I’m heading up to Earth. Gotta get some things if I’ll be living here full time,” he said as flatly and casually as he possibly could. It was taking all his strength to keep the urgency and the terror from his voice.

Beelzebub narrowed their eyes. “Well, be quick about it. There’zzzz work to be done.”

Crowley nodded causally. “Yeah, I’ll be back at some point. Don’t know when yet.” He backpedaled as he saw the suspicion build on their face like gathering clouds. “I mean, yeah, I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he corrected.

“Everything alright?”

Beelzebub’s voice was steely and suspicious.

Crowley’s heart froze. “Yeah,” he replied flatter and duller, “Everything’s fine.”

“Good,” they said, adding a look that could only mean: _It better be._

Crowley turned and sauntered to the door. “Be seeing you then,” he said and strolled out.

No sooner had the door clicked shut again then Crowley turned and began to run. He darted along the dark walls like a shadow until he reached his office again. Ducking inside, he shut the door behind him, leaning against it to collect his thoughts. Carefully, he slipped the ring onto his finger again and closed his eyes. He desperately hoped that this would work and that he wouldn’t be too late. Focusing on the last stands of the pair bond that had survived, Crowley miracled himself home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	6. Chapter 6

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Home.

He knew where he was even before he opened his eyes.

Very, very cautiously, he let his eyes flutter open. It was dark and the streetlamps from outside made odd shadows on the walls. The bookshop was eerily quiet.

“Aziraphale?” he whispered.

There was no answer.

Slowly, the demon walked around a shelf of books and there he was.

His angel had tears pouring down his face and he was drinking from a small white cup. Suddenly Crowley felt it. A waft of holiness in the air. Something was very wrong. The cup was filled with…

“Aziraphale! No!”

Crowley ran across the room, dashing the cup from his hand. It fell to the ground and shattered, the contents spreading across the floor.

Aziraphale gasped, his fearful eyes wide as he tried to understand what was going on.

Then a searing pain tore through his chest and he winced.

Crowley leapt forward, heedless of the holy water in a pool around the fallen angel’s feet. Aziraphale staggered backwards, his eyes still wide with fear.

“Are you…are you real?” asked Aziraphale weakly.

“Yes, I’m real. I’m here,” breathed Crowley, his eyes blurring with tears.

Aziraphale searched the demon’s eyes with something like hope. The warmth had returned to his gaze. The emptiness and cold that Aziraphale had seen there was gone. Aziraphale would have smiled had the burning pain not taken over. He curled in on himself and gasped in pain as the holy water began to take effect.

Then suddenly he was in Crowley’s arms, and the demon’s concern and love was pouring over him. Aziraphale was about to lean on him for support when he realized Crowley was in danger, too.

“Careful,” stammered Aziraphale, “Don’t…don’t…” He coughed and quickly caught his breath. “That’s…holy water. You’ll…” Aziraphale trailed off as the invisible flames filled him again.

“I know, angel,” whispered Crowley, his voice shaky, “I know.” He could feel the holy water burning at his feet.

“But…” attempted Aziraphale, “I don’t…don’t want you…to die.”

Of course Aziraphale wasn’t thinking of himself.

Crowley sobbed and pulled the fallen angel closer. Very gently, Crowley lifted him from the puddle in a desperate attempt to save him from the deadly substance that was already corroding his very essence. But the damage was done. Aziraphale was slowly and flamelessly burning, and Crowley had no way to stop it. Silently, Crowley made his decision. Aziraphale was facing death and Crowley would rather be tortured for the rest of eternity than let him face it alone.

“Angel, if you’re…if you’re going to die,” sobbed Crowley with much difficulty, “I’m going with you.” _I can’t bear to live without you,_ he added silently.

Tears shone on Aziraphale’s cheeks, his head resting on Crowley’s shoulder. He swayed, unsteady on his feet and sank to the ground, pulling the demon with him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in a broken voice, “I’m so sorry. I…I love…you…Crowley.”

The demon cradled Aziraphale’s face in his hands. “I love you too, angel,” he breathed, gazing straight into his eyes, “Nothing can ever change that.”

Slowly, he leaned forward and Aziraphale met him halfway. He gently pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, tears streaming down his cheeks. Aziraphale’s arms tightened around him. Crowley could feel the holy water burning at his lips, but he didn’t care. Aziraphale was holding him and kissing him, and if this was how he died, Crowley didn’t want it any other way. Both of them silently wished this could last forever as they treasured the last kiss they would ever share.

Somewhere, far off in the universe, two stars that had orbited around each other since time began, dropped from the sky, burning out with brilliant flames in their wake, as two fallen angels were cast into oblivion together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry. 
> 
> If by some odd chance you enjoyed this, kudos and comments are much appreciated.


End file.
